Solid Ground
by shalom378
Summary: One-Shot. Please read! "The taste and smell of him is so familiar, like vanilla and pine. I loop my arms around his neck, drawing him in closer..."


**_Hey-oh, all! So I'm really obsessed with this series and wanted to write another one-shot for it. This is if Rhine never came into the picture and a girl named Corinne took her place instead. If this gets good reviews, I'll continue it... maybe ;D_**

The keypad blinks at my touch, and I wince when the old garage door groans as it opens. As quickly as I can I wheel my bicycle into a shadowy corner of the abandoned garage, then pick my way through the cement floor littered with spare parts. Not even Vaughn comes out here, so I'm pretty confident of my solidity until the door to the mansion opens, yellow light cutting through the darkness.

"Corinne?"

Cecily stands in the doorway, the end of her long white nightgown nearly brushing the carpet flooring.

I freeze, then walk up the two steps to where she stands, sleepily confused.

"Back to bed," I tell her, gently yet firmly. She yawns, shutting the door behind us, and I follow her into her room down the hall. Cecily collapses onto her bed, her orange hair fanning out against the pillow, and whispers, "Sing to me?"

I sit in a chair beside her bed and stroke her hair. Her eyes flutter close as I sing her favorite lullaby.

_"And the frogs in the pool, singing at night,_

_And the wild plum trees in tremulous white;_

_Robins will wear their feathery fire_

_Whistling their whims on a low-fence wire…"_

Cecily's breathing becomes soft and even. I watch her for a few moments, my fingers still tangled in her hair, and I think how quickly we have to grow up. She's only thirteen, and I fifteen. As I make my way down the hall to my room I have a fleeting pang of sadness that only comes every so often- I miss my mother, her gentle whispers and the way she always smelled sweet and tangy, like raspberries. When she died of the virus, my father became an alcoholic to erase the pain and memories. It was almost a relief when the Gatherers came two years ago.

I almost turn on a lamp before I realize Linden is sleeping in my bed. Quietly, I strip off my dirty jeans and slip into soft pajama pants.

"Corinne."

Linden's voice beckons, and I sit on the edge of the bed. "Yes?"

He sits up, then reaches over me and turns on the bedside lamp. "Give me your hand."

I do so, and wince when he frowns. "Bicycle grease? Cori, you _know_ I don't approve of your night ridings!"

He sounds angry, but there's something else, too- worry, a tinge of fear.

I pull away and stalk to the attached bathroom, then submerge my hands in warm sink water, squinting at my reflection in the mirror. Freckles stand out on my otherwise olive skin, and my curly auburn hair falls just to my shoulders. "Well maybe if you take me to more expos or something I wouldn't be so restless to get out," I call over the sound of running water. I shut off the faucet and dry my hands on a fluffy blue towel, then walk into the bedroom again. Linden is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over so his head is in his hands. I take advantage of his vulnerable state.

"I never get to do anything."

I keep talking as he stands.

"You always go places, and Jenna and I have to entertain Cecily, which is no easy task, and-" He cuts me off with a kiss.

The taste and smell of him is so familiar, like vanilla and pine. I loop my arms around his neck, drawing him in closer. Linden makes a little noise in the back of his throat, and something hot blooms inside my chest. He pulls back slightly, our noses still touching, both of us short of breath. "Come to bed," he whispers.

"Okay," I murmur in reply.

#**#**#**#**#

_TWO MONTHS LATER_

All three of us wives sit around the breakfast table, waiting for Linden to join us. Cecily picks listlessly at her red and green placemat. "Where is he, anyway? It's Christmas morning! He should be here by now!"

"Be patient, Cecily," Jenna says in an exasperated tone. "He said he'd be a few minutes late."

Cecily pouts and nudges me under the table with her foot. "Cori agrees with me. Don't you?"

I drop my gaze to my hands folded in the lap of my simple gold dress- we all fancied up for him- not wanting to be caught in the middle of a fight, even though I'm privately on Cecily's side. The sound of footsteps grabs our attention- Linden appears in the dining room, carrying a large cardboard box.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologizes, and sets the box on the ground. "I was picking up your Christmas presents." Cecily squeals and claps her hands, the news even causes Jenna to smile softly. Linden reaches into the box and plucks something out of it, then carefully deposits a tiny white kitten into my lap.

"Oh," I breathe, and stroke its little head. Cecily receives an orange tabby kitten, and Jenna a soot-black one. Cecily prattles on happily about naming them while Linden sits at the head of the table, obviously worn out but smiling contentedly.

Attendants begin to stream in and out, laden with covered plates and trays, and Cecily asks, "What will you name yours, Jenna?"

Jenna looks at the pile of black fur in her lap and replies coolly, "Snow."

Cecily stares at her. "Your cat is _black_." To which Jenna only smiles.

I speak up. "I'm going to name mine Sooty."

"But… but… Linden!" Cecily sputters. Linden only shrugs and hides a smile, and Jenna and I laugh when Cecily sticks out her tongue.

The attendants set out a china plate in front of each of us. With a flourish, the silver covers are simultaneously lifted, and puffs of steam smelling of bacon and pastry and egg fill the room. Jenna and Cecily set their kittens on the floor to play but I don't move. Oblivious to my queasiness the two girls dig into the meal. Linden places his hand over mine and questions, "Cori? Are you all right? You look so-"

The nausea presses my throat. I practically throw Sooty at Linden and rush from the parlor, down the hall, and into my bathroom. I just make it to the toilet when my stomach twists and lurches, and I gag on vomit. Linden wasn't far behind; he kneels beside me, pulling my hair back from my sweaty forehead and slides a hand up and down my back as I retch. When I finish I sit back against his chest, exhausted.

He presses the back of his cool hand to my cheek and says softly, "Corinne? When was your last monthly course?"

I sit up, my head pounding in protest, and twist my body to look up at him. "Two months ago. But I've always been irregular."

He traces the outline of my lips with his thumb. "Two months ago?" he presses gently. I blush, not liking where this is headed.

"Linden- I'm not- I'm _not_- pregnant?" The question hangs in the air between us- his deep blue eyes hold the answer. Silently I stretch out on the cold tile and lay my head in his lap. He hands deftly intertwine with my hair until I drift off into sleep.

**_Sooo what did you think_****? ****Please por favor si vous plait REVIEW!**


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